Criminal
by Lacadiva
Summary: Elizabeth and Neal are wounded in a botched jewelry story heist. Peter thinks it's all Neal's fault…after all, he's a Criminal...
1. Chapter 1

CRIMINAL

by

Lacadiva

Rating: PG-13 for violence.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, but to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

_Summary: Elizabeth and Neal are shot in a jewelry heist. Peter thinks Caffrey is to blame. After all, he is a criminal…_

_~WC~_

He demanded the Paramedics tend to Elizabeth first. The threatening look in is wild, concerned eyes made it clear just what kind of fresh hell the young medics would suffer if they dared deny is request.

They worked fast, saying little in response as Peter continued to bombard them with urgent questions.

"Please, sir, step back and let us do our work," one of them firmly pleaded and quickly resumed the work of shouting out the dark haired woman's vitals.

Peter stepped back obediently but reluctantly – this was the professional…no, right thing to do. He could do nothing to help Elizabeth at the moment. This wasn't his purview.

He noticed shattered glass that once provided crystal clear protection to showcases once filled with such bejeweled items as earrings, cuff links and watches. Now it littered the floor in thousands of tiny shards and fine white powder that crunched loudly under his feet.

Strange, he thought; the things you notice when under stress. When someone you loved could be dying.

This was an image that would forever be branded into his memory: Sweet Elizabeth laying unconscious upon the cold tile floor of the upscale jewelry store. Beside her, close to her, Neal also laid bleeding and fighting desperately to speak, to breathe.

_Holding El's hand. _

A second emergency medical team raced in bumping past Peter unapologetically to attend to Neal. The EMTs gently repositioned the man's body away from Elizabeth, breaking their contact. They opened his shirt, cutting it away quickly. The fine linen was wet, heavy and saturated with his blood. His skin was stained and shiny-slick around the wound.

No. _Wounds_…plural…Peter noticed now. Two bullet wounds. He winced involuntarily.

Sympathy and empathy wrapped around his heart, threatening to move him to feel something for the man he once happily called his friend and partner. He fought the sentimentality rising up in his mind. That would only feed his already serious case of myopia when it came to Neal Caffrey. He had to stand firm.

Neal Caffrey was a criminal. And this is what criminals did. Create havoc. Spread sorrow. Engender grief, chaos, confusion and loss. They take that which they do not deserve and leave others bereft, without.

The medics at Neal's side worked faster and more frantically than those with Elizabeth. It was more than apparent that Neal's condition was far worst than his wife's.

'Good,' Peter thought angrily, teeth grinding. The reason she lay upon the floor with paramedics bandaging her arm, checking her pupils, calling her name was, by all appearances, the fault of none other than Neal Caffrey.

The EMTs began shouting orders at one another, cursing as dark blood oozed profusely from Neal's wounds when they attempted to search for exit wounds. Neal cried out, begging them not to move him again. They quickly corrected their misstep and fought against time to stabilize their patient. Neal's eyes opened wide as if he'd seen some vision of heaven, or, more likely, thought Peter, a glimpse of the hell that awaited him for his life of crime. Then, he fell unconscious. It scared the agent to see anyone endure such physical pain.

Peter felt a moment of guilt struggle against his anger, but left the moment to address later when he heard a voice behind him.

"Peter."

Jones was suddenly at Peter's side. Before the Agent could speak, Peter said, "I want to see surveillance videos, inside the store and out. I want every inch of this place dusted, every inch of it, and…"

"We're working on it, Peter," Jones assured him.

"I want to know everything that happened from the moment my wife walked into this store. And pull every bit of tracking data, for the last two weeks, on Neal's anklet. I want to know every street he walked down, every threshold he crossed and every person he spoke to."

"Is Elizabeth going to be okay?"

"She'd better be," Peter said between clenched teeth. "For Neal's sake."

"What do you need?"

Peter looked Jones in the eyes. "I need you to find out what happened here. Don't talk to me until you know. And find Mozzie," he said, as if the sound of Mozzie's name brought additional pain. "If this scam of Neal's went sour, he's probably on the run."

"You don't think…? Peter, this doesn't look like Caffrey's style," Jones ventured cautiously.

"Until I know better, Caffrey's the reason my wife is lying on the floor unconscious."

"How bad is he?" Jones asked, gesturing towards Neal.

"Not as bad as he'll be when I'm finished with him. Get this place cleared out and let's get to work."

"We've got it. Trust us. Go to the hospital with El. We'll call you the minute we know anything."

Peter nodded. He appreciated Jones more than he could say at that moment. As the Paramedics raced the gurney carrying Elizabeth to the store's exit, Peter followed closely.

Jones watched as the medics then placed Caffrey upon a gurney, I.V.'s in his arms, blood covering a good deal of him, and carried him away.

The Agent breathed in a deep ragged breath. It didn't look good.

~WC~

A FEW HOURS LATER

Surely this was the bottom. This was devastation, the very depth of its meaning. Ruination, hopelessness, destruction. His heart had been leveled…

Peter Burke could barely breathe. His eyes burned, his chest hurt, his empty, acid-filled stomach churned. He sat wringing his bloodstained, blood-sticky hands until the skin beneath the stain began to feel raw. Anything to amplify the magnitude of his pain to avoid the thoughts in his head.

_A better man, a better husband, would have protected his wife. A better man, a stronger man, would have seen the signs and taken action immediately. _

_A better man…_

So much guilt and self-accusation.

_A better man, a smarter man, would have realized the depth of trouble Neal Caffrey represented and banished him from his life long before things got out of hand._

Things could not be more out of hand than this, he mused.

Somewhere beyond those double doors, his wife lay bleeding on a table. He didn't know how bad it was, couldn't see the wound. He was pulled away from her so quickly once they arrived the hospital that he had no time, no opportunity to see for himself.

And no one had talked to him. Not yet.

How had this happened? What was she doing in that jewelry story in the middle of the day, the middle of her workday? They had sat at the breakfast table hours early that morning and traded portions of the paper and chatted about the mountains of work waiting for both of them at their respective jobs. Talked about it over his favorite cereal, great coffee and those little chunks of melon El had loved so much and demanded he eat more often.

Elizabeth never made mention of going to or needing anything from a ritzy jewelry store. It wasn't her style. It was not a client, as far as he knew, or a potential client. She would have told him if such a place had contacted her for event planning. Instead, he gets the call he never wanted to hear: that his wife was hurt and in danger…that there had been a robbery. Shots had been fired. He would never be able to shake from his mind's eye the image of her lying on the floor and bleeding, as he stepped over the threshold.

And Neal, bleeding profusely, gone pale, lips quivering as he tried spit out some lie, spin the truth into a plausible excuse to keep himself from going back to jail.

"Sorry…" was all Peter could understand. And then Neal lost consciousness.

Peter was positive Neal was guilty, guilty as sin. Had to be.

After all, Peter reminded himself once again, Neal Caffrey was a _criminal_.

Criminal. The word reverberated in his head. Criminal. And the greatest crime he had committed was fooling Peter into believing he could ever be reformed, or trusted, or be a friend.

He was a criminal, and it was clearly Neal's fault Elizabeth was there with him when the robbery went down. It had to be Neal's fault. What business would El have there unless Neal had concocted some plan to steal something and had tried to use El to accomplish the con?

And now Peter's wife would pay for Neal's folly.

Peter's stomach turned at the thought. How could he be so wrong, so easily fooled and finessed by his C.I.? Neal spoke the language of lies like no other. Deflect. Steal. Cheat, obfuscate, inveigle, use, abuse.

Criminal.

Guilt and responsibility taunted him – he should have stayed at the crime scene and lead the investigation. No good agent worthy of his badge would leave a fluid situation, a crime scene still hot with fresh clues and evidence, proof and DNA. But he reminded himself that Jones was there. Diana would be there, too. They wouldn't let anything fall through the cracks. They would report to him before the night was over and present him with the very evidence that would convict Caffrey and put him away for the rest of his thieving life.

They were through, he and Neal. Next stop, prison. Solitary confinement at Ryker's, if he had his way.

He wanted to feel relief at the thought, but all Peter could feel was sad. Sad that all his efforts did so little to rehabilitate the criminal. Sad that he had extended his hand in friendship, and this was his payback.

Lies, plots, schemes, cons…

"Agent Burke?"

Peter stood up so fast his head swam.

"My wife…how is she?" Peter's own voice sounded hollow in his ears. What if…what would he do if…

"She's fine," the Doctor said.

The words did not register with Peter at first.

"She's fine?"

"She's awake, alert, and asking for you."

Gratitude welled up in Peter so hard and fast that he thought he'd explode.

"The bullet wound was superficial," the doctor said, continuing. "She'll have the tiniest scar on her right upper arm."

"But…she was unconscious. And there was so much blood…her dress…her hands…"

"She lost consciousness from a bump on the head. That gave us more cause to worry, but as I said, she's conscious. She'll have quite a headache, and perhaps a little trouble remembering the incident, but she'll be fine."

"Can I see her?"

"Shortly. We're prepping a room for her right now. We'd like to keep her for a few hours, make sure everything's good."

"Of course," Peter coughed out. "That's just…that's just great."

"A nurse will let you know when your wife is all situated. Are you okay, Agent Burke?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly. "It's just…all that blood. I thought she…it looked as if…"

"Apparently most of it wasn't hers. Your forensics team will no doubt be able to sort it all out."

"Yes. Thank you, Doctor."

As the doctor walked away, it occurred to Peter to ask, "What about the man she came in with. Neal Caffrey…any word on his condition?"

"I'll ask the nurse to check for you. Why don't you just sit down, relax. I'm sure everything will work out fine."

Peter nodded, and took the Doctor's advice. He breathed deeply, gratefully.

Elizabeth was going to be okay.

Peter stood, stretched, located a men's room sign and followed it. He washed the dried blood from his hands and tried not to think about it as evidence being washed away. Once done, he followed a smiling nurse to a bank of elevators, and rode two floors up and took the long walk to the south wing where Elizabeth was resting.

She looked his way and beamed the moment he cracked open the door.

"Hi, hun," she said quietly.

"Hi, hun," he said with a shaky voice. He went to the bed and took her hand, kissed it.

Before he could ask, she said, "I'm fine. I my head hurts, but I'm fine."

"Your arm…you were shot..."

She turned to look at the small white bandage on her arm. "The doctor said it's just a scratch. I barely feel it. If I don't move it…"

Peter nodded, but he didn't believe her. She looked so frail and tiny in the hospital bed. But she also looked radiant and warm and…

"Tell what you remember," he said. It was more a demand than a request. He needed to know.

"Honestly," she said, "it's all kind of a blur. I can't remember much of anything. I remember having breakfast with you…"

"You don't remember anything that happened before you lost consciousness? The jewelry store? The robbery…"

"The doctors said I might have a little trouble remembering things at first. It hurts just thinking…"

"Then stop thinking," Peter said, gently stroking her hair. "Just rest."

"Only if you promise not to worry."

"Can't promise you that," he said honestly.

"Wait…" Memory stirred, making her look up to the ceiling. She searched the off white tiles until she found an image and put a name to it."

"Neal…"

"What do you remember?" He was anxious to hear, anxious to know. Anxious to indict.

"I remember Neal…he was hurt. Sweet heart…"

Peter tried to calm her, touching her face, holding her hand.

"Is he all right?"

Peter said nothing at first. Resentment flared hotly in his chest. Why is she so concerned? How could she be so concerned for the man who was responsible for her being there?

"Peter, please tell me he's okay…that he's not…"

"He's not dead, El. At least he wasn't…I don't know anything yet."

"Then you have to go check."

"Neal will be fine. Neal is always fine."

"This isn't like you!"

"I was much more concerned about you!"

"I'm fine. The doctor said so. You need to check on Neal! You need to…oh…oh boy…"

"El!"

"It's nothing, just a little dizzy…"

"You're getting yourself all worked up!"

"You think? Go to Neal. He needs you."

"But you need me. Neal is…"

"I'm not talking to you until you talk to Neal."

Elizabeth adamantly turned her head and readjusted in the hospital bed, as if preparing to sleep.

"El?"

She did not answer.

"I'll be back."

She turned to him smiling now. "I'll be here."

~WC~

He found the Duty Nurse. According to the chart she found upon the desk, Neal was resting in post-op.

"What's his condition?" Peter asked.

"Are you family?"

Peter showed his badge.

Moments later, after successful negotiations with the Duty Nurse, and a promise that he would keep his visit short, Peter stepped into the room where unconscious Neal lay attached to monitors, I.V.s, and all manner of unidentifiable medical equipment.

Neal was only partially covered. Thick white bandages stained with blood, Betadine and other fluids were wrapped around his midsection. According to the monitors, the nurse had told him, Neal was in stable condition. He would pull through, but it would be a slow and painful processes.

It hurt to see him this way. Those bright blue eyes shut, lids swollen, his dark hair matted with sweat and splayed about his forehead and the pillow. The paleness of his complexion…the fluids being pumped into his wounded body….

Peter pulled up a chair, close to the bed and sat for a moment. He listened to the steady percussive beats of the various monitors, keeping time with Neal's vitals. Keeping time with his life. Peter took a deep breath.

"Neal…"

He'd heard that people could still hear sometimes, even when unconscious. He wasn't sure he wanted Neal to hear what he had to say, but he knew he had to say it.

" Neal…how do I say this? I want you to know…I want you to know that, as of right now, we're through. It's over. This friendship, this partnership arrangement. You put my wife…MY WIFE…in jeopardy for the last time. She could've died today. And I would've…. I don't know what kind of something-for-nothing, hair-brained scheme you tried to pull this time…but you used my wife. She cared about you, more than you'll ever understand or deserve. And you used her. You betrayed her trust, you put her in harm's way. And your little con backfired.

"So here you are, an inch away from life support…and I don't care. I feel nothing for you, Neal. Nothing."

Peter looked away, as if Neal could see his reddening face, see the lie.

"No more Sunday dinners. No more coffee chitchats or stakeouts. That full immunity thing? Considered it revoked. Protecting you is the stupidest thing I've ever done. You don't need protection. It's time to take responsibility for all the pain, all the suffering you've generated these past five years. It's over, Neal. _Over_.

"You're a criminal, Neal. I let myself forget that. I was beguiled by your intelligence, your enthusiasm. Your likability. I forgot…you're a conman. Conmen know how to trick people into liking them, trusting them. You sure did a job on me. I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. Walked right into it. Trusted you. Made you family. Considered you a friend. You must have been laughing at me the whole time. No more.

"You're a criminal. From now on, that's exactly how you're going to be treated. You deserve whatever you get from this. If I have my way, you'll never see the light of day or breath fresh air again. As soon as I get confirmation of your complicity from Jones and Barrigan, I will slap the cuffs on you myself. Then, I can finally rest. That's all."

Peter rose and lingered. The words seemed harsh, especially in light of Neal's helpless condition. But he did what he needed to do. Said what he needed to say. Now the process would begin to sever his deal with the Justice Department and return Neal to prison, where he belonged. Better to just rip the bandage off.

He thought he saw Neal's hand move, but realized quickly it was probably just an autonomic response, an involuntary muscle reaction because of the I.V. needle in his arm.

Peter headed for the door, relieved that he had said all that he had to say, grateful to get this behind him so that he could move forward, move on. Life without Neal Caffrey was going to be…different.

He turned a looked one last time at unconscious Neal, then left.

If he had looked closer, he may have noticed the single tear streaming down Neal's pale cheek.

END CHAPTER ONE

Thanks for reading! If you were moved at all, I hope you will kindly review. Chapter two will be up in a few days.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

CRIMINAL

Chapter 2

by

Lacadiva

Rating: PG-13 for violence.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, but to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

_Summary: Elizabeth and Neal are shot in a jewelry heist. Peter thinks Caffrey is to blame. After all, he is a criminal…_

Chapter Two

~WC~

New York Presbyterian Hospital

3:39 PM

As much as Peter wanted to return to Elizabeth's side, he needed to take a detour before going back to her room. He stopped by a hospital coffee shop a couple floors below ICU and bought the largest black coffee they could brew and pour. Then he stood by a clouded window and watched as the sun began to lose some of its luster upon his beloved city. The coffee, though freshly made, according to the perky young barista, tasted tepid and bitter in his mouth and sat sourly in his tense, empty stomach.

Peter could not help but replay in his mind the speech he'd just unleashed upon his C.I. The words were potent and harsh…

"…_we're through. No more coffee chit chats, no more stakeouts…no more Sunday dinners…you're a criminal."_

…but necessary.

It had to be done, he determined, strengthening his resolve with another sip of bad coffee. Now he had to go and face El and tell her all that had transpired. He knew she would protest – she was always faithfully sympathetic towards Neal – but she would eventually come to agree with her husband's decision. He still had to get an official statement from her. Perhaps by now a few of the day's murky events were starting to coalesce and –

Peter felt a subtle but insistent vibration in his jacket pocket and realized his cell was ringing.

"This is Burke."

"Boss, we have the surveillance footage. They're being transferred for viewing as we speak."

"Thanks, Diana. I'm on my way back. I want to take a look at them myself."

~WC~

FBI WHITE COLLAR DIVISION

4:15 PM

He sat in the bureau's conference room, door closed, though the glass walls and windows still made him feel as if he were sitting inside a fishbowl. He played with a pencil anxiously and stared at the FBI shield against the royal blue background on the flat screen, waiting impatiently for Diana to deliver the digital copies of the surveillance videos.

His mind was consumed with thoughts of El back in the hospital alone, and all the possibilities and dark scenarios the video images might soon reveal. He already knew what he would be duty bound to do in light of irrefutable evidence against his C.I.; still, the inevitability made his gut ache.

Neal had to be dealt with. It was Peter's responsibility to see to Caffrey's return to prison, to serve time for his crimes. It was Peter's fault for trusting Neal and now things had finally hit bottom…

"Boss…"

Diana entered the room with the freshly opened case file, holding a disk slightly aloft.

"Have you seen it?" Peter asked.

"I gave it a cursory look. If you want my assessment…"

Peter reached stiffly for the remote control while Diana inserted the video into the DVD player.

"He's guilty, isn't he?"

"Peter…"

"I had such faith in that kid…"

"Peter…just watch the footage," she insisted.

Diana hit play, then sat beside him, hoping he'd find some comfort in proximity.

Peter could only shake his head as he waited for the images to assault him. Betrayal was like a knife, and the wound it created ran painfully deep.

The silent, static blue-gray surveillance video image that popped up on the screen was divided into four parts, four distinct and separate quadrants of Fonseca Jewelers' interior and exterior.

Camera one showed the owner and jeweler, Damien Fonseca spritzing the display case and polishing it to a high shine.

Camera two was a soft-focused fish-eyed view of the street just outside the store and showed nothing more interesting than the occasional swift-walking passerby, loud public bus or New York Taxi.

Camera three showed no movement, only a shot of the high-tech wall safe in the office in the background and several display cases in the foreground. Hot lights made the video image too soft and too bright to discern what might be inside the cases.

Lastly, camera four revealed pretty much the same as Camera 3, but from a different angle, closer to the office.

"Notice anything yet?" asked Diana.

Peter's eyes squinted as he tried to see what she had seen.

A dull, cold shiver ran down Peter's spine, and his gut clench painfully as he watched Neal enter, check his watch and then – quite uncomfortably – step up to the display counter…as if he knew he shouldn't have been there…

"Here we go," Peter said just under his breath.

~WC~

FONSECA JEWELERS

10:13 AM

Neal stepped inside the jewelry store and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, even as soft bells chimed over his head. He was surrounded by many fine pieces of jewelry, though not the most expensive in all Manhattan. Fonseca's was not exactly Harry Winston. Still, if Peter were to pull the tracking data on his anklet, he mused, the agent would probably have a mild coronary. There was no way Neal could adequately explain his presence to Peter without ruining the entire plan.

With one hand in his pocket (as if to remind himself to keep out of trouble), he offered the other to shake the hand of the jeweler as he introduced himself – first name only – and gave his most winning smile.

"How can I help you today?" Fonseca asked congenially.

"I'm waiting for someone. Beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes…"

"Aren't we all?" the jeweler joked. "Either you're talking about yourself, or Mrs. Burke."

"Have I missed her?"

"Not at all. You're actually my very first customer today. You're not Mr. Burke…?"

"Oh, no," Neal laughed, a hand to his tie knot, "I'm just a close family friend. She asked me to meet her here..."

Neal noticed the front door. There should have been a security guard. He gestured toward the unprotected door. "Your guard taking a smoke break?"

"He had some kind of emergency. His wife is apparently having a difficult pregnancy. A replacement is on the way. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we haven't had an "incident" in nearly a decade."

Suspicion rose up in Neal's gut like a thorny branch threatening to pierce and strangle his insides. Before he could voice his disconcerting thought, bells chimed signifying that someone new was entering the store. Both men looked to the door as Elizabeth entered hurriedly.

"Sorry I'm late, Neal," she offered quickly as apology, throwing up her arms up and letting them slap hard against her sides. She gave Neal an awkward hug. "I usually walk everywhere, and the one morning I try to get a cab…"

Neal nodded understandingly. "Not a problem," he said. "Peter isn't expecting me for another thirty minutes or so."

"Great! Thank you so much for doing this for me!"

Elizabeth turned to Fonseca. "Can we see them?"

Fonseca smiled, quite proud of himself and said, "It's been a long time since anyone's given me a challenge as unique as this one."

The jeweler placed a dark blue velvet tray on the countertop, upon which lay a set of antique cufflinks.

"Nice," Neal commented, an eyebrow raising has he admired the obvious workmanship, and considered how good they'd look on his own favorite ivory silk shirt. "Very nice."

"Do you really think so?" Elizabeth asked, excitement bubbling within her. "Take a closer look at them. Go on."

Neal looked curiously at El, then at Fonseca. "What am I looking for?"

"Mr. Fonseca specializes in recreating matches for lost items. One of these cufflinks belonged to Peter's grandfather. He adored the man. When Peter turned eighteen, his grandfather gave them to him. Sometime after we were married, Peter lost the match, but held onto the other for sentimental reasons. I was pondering what I could give him for our anniversary this year. I wanted it to be special…

"…and you remembered the cufflinks," said Neal.

"They meant the world to Peter. I asked Mr. Fonseca to use his expertise to create a matching cufflink…"

"…and you want me see if I can tell the difference," Neal finished.

Mr. Fonseca offered Neal a monocular. "Mrs. Burke says you have a good eye for determining authenticity. Please, see if you can tell the original from the recreation."

Neal smiled, loving the challenge. He held the monocular and leaned down to inspect the cufflinks. He mumbled, praising the quality of the work, accurately assessing the year the cufflinks were made (which impressed Fonseca), the origin of the gold and diamonds (which further impressed Fonseca), and finally surrendered the viewing instrument back to the owner.

"This one is the original," Neal said, pointing to the cufflink on the right. "The match, however, is nearly flawless. Excellent work. Almost had me fooled. And that's not easy. To the naked eye, even a trained one, the recreation is a perfect match."

Fonseca placed a hand upon his chest and gave a slight but humble bow. El beamed, delighted and relieved that her idea had played out so well.

"Do you think Peter will like them? El asked.

"I think he'll absolutely love them," said Neal.

"Thank you for lending your expertise," Fonseca said.

El brushed a piece of imaginary fluff from Neal's lapel – a safe way to touch him and communicated her pride in her husband's CI. "I figured if it could pass the Neal test…"

"What exactly is it you do, Neal?" Fonseca asked.

Before Neal could forge a plausible answer, bells above the door tinkled again. All three turned to look.

Neal knew a beat before the others that something horrible was about to go down, and that it would more than likely end bloody.

~WC~

"Boss…what do you see?"

Peter hit pause on the remote control and regarded the frozen images as closely as he could.

"I see my soon-to-be-former CI surrounded by lots and lots of catnip…"

"Neal doesn't look particularly interested."

"He's a master at deflection."

"There's something significant missing from this picture. Rewind it back a few frames and watch Neal for a moment."

Peter complied, and began a running commentary, like a sports reporter calling the play-by-play in a football game in his head as he analyzed every move and nuance Caffrey made:

_Neal appears uncomfortable…hands in his pocket…looks around the store….is he casing the place? He seems impatient...or distracted...notices something odd…seems genuinely concerned, maybe even a little scared..._

"What's he saying to the jeweler?" he asked aloud. "Why don't surveillance tapes use audio?"

"Right to privacy," Diana answered quickly.

"I know, Diana. I'm just saying… We need to get a lip reader in here."

Peter ran the video back again and watched Neal's lips as best he could.

"Something about...it looks like he said..."

"Where's the security guard?"

"Is that what he said?"

"No, I'm saying there's no security guard on the door."

"There's no guard," Peter echoed. "Where's the store security guard? What do we know about him?"

Diana flipped the case file open and pulled out a photocopy of a thick-necked man's New York driver's license file picture.

"According to the Jeweler, Mr. Fonseca, the guard, one Joseph Gordon Thunderburk, claimed to have received an emergency call shortly after opening. He left despite Fonseca's threats to have him fired. Fonseca said in his initial statement he was waiting for the security agency to send a replacement…"

"…and then Neal conveniently arrives once the guard exits. Neal arranged the fake emergency call, didn't he?"

"I don't think that's what happened."

Peter waited for an explanation.

"Fonseca doesn't seem to think Neal was involved."

"Fonseca didn't see anything. He locked himself in the office..."

"Because Neal told him to, to protect him."

"And you don't think that's a little convenient?"

"I don't know, boss," Diana capitulated. "I just think Neal isn't…

"Do we have a twenty on the guard?" Peter asked.

"Jones is on it."

Peter resumed watching.

"Wait…" Peter said quickly, almost breathlessly, nearly leaping from his chair but holding himself back. "There's El."

The running commentary in his head urgently resumed.

_She slaps her arms against her sides…seen that before a thousand times…she's frustrated…she was late meeting him…what could he need her to do? Was he using her as a smoke screen? Maybe a shield, or distraction? Oh wait, there it is, that smile…that big, cheesy, beguiling, distracting Neal Caffrey smile that makes you think everything's good, everything's great, while his hands are reaching into your pockets to rob you blind. He wants to hug her…she accepts… _

"Hm…"

"What?" asks Diana.

"What? Nothing."_  
_

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping Diana would make no further note of his moment of insecurity.

_The hug is quick…chaste and friendly… not the hug of a woman having an affair…that's my girl. _

_El…what has all this to do with you? Fonseca moves out of the frame…wait, what is that he's showing them…?_

Jones entered hastily. "We've got a line on the security guard. Surveillance cameras pegged him at J.F.K. thirty minutes ago trying to buy a ticket to Cancun with his wife's credit card. TSA is holding him for us."

"Let's get him in here. Figure out his connection to Neal."

Jones nodded quickly and left.

"Boss," Diana said, a little cautiously, "I'm not sure there is a connection."

Peter sat back, only mildly willing to entertain his agent's assessment.

She resumed play and Peter locked his eyes once again upon the screen.

_Neal is studying the object…objects…can't tell what's there…earrings? Why would Neal be looking at earrings…unless his intention is to steal them? Use El to cover his tracks…_

_Someone just entered the store. They notice. _

_They're terrified. _

Peter felt the blood rushing from his head, and the room was suddenly quite cold.

_Two men…guns…hand gun, shot gun…faces covered… aiming at Neal, El and Fonseca…_

_And Neal...wait!_

"WAIT!" Peter shouted. Run it back, run it back!"

Diana quickly reversed the image.

"Right there!" shouted Peter. "Stop it! Now, put it in slow motion."

He leaped to his feet to stand in front of the screen. Diana joined him. They watched as El, Fonseca and Neal faced the gunmen…

"Watch Neal. Blink and you'll miss it."

Even in slow motion the movement is slick, quick and barely detectable, unless you know what to look for. Peter always knew what to look for.

Neal's video gray image reaches for the items on the blue velvet tray, and in one swift, fluid motion, he palms them. Then without missing a beat, he drops them in to El's slightly open purse.

"Right there!"

"Missed that the first time," Diana confessed.

"Neal just used my wife as his unwitting accomplice. He's going to pay for this."

"What about the gunmen?"

"Maybe Neal hired them as a distraction. Paid them to rob the place."

They watch as the gunmen threaten Neal, El and the Jeweler.

"So why would they shoot Neal?"

"The plan got away from him. Maybe the thugs decided they wanted a little more. Look…what's he doing? He's telling them where the surveillance cameras are! He's telling them to disable the surveillance cameras!"

They watch as the two masked robbers disperse to destroy the cameras. The image in each frame died, until only camera one remained operational.

And then video Neal looked directly into the camera and began to blink.

"Why didn't he tell them about the main camera?" Diana asked.

"Maybe he didn't know."

"We're talking about Neal…he knew."

"I can't believe you're still defending him."

"I'm not…I just…wait did you see that?"

Peter stared closely. "Neal's blinking. So what?"

Diana moved closer to the screen. It looked as if Neal was looking directly at them, slow-motion blinking his eyes.

"It's Morse Code."

"Diana…you're reaching…"

"Boss…"

"It's just another Caffrey smoke screen to throw us off!"

"What is, this? Freaky Friday?"

Peter could only stare dumbfounded.

"Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis?" she said in explanation.

Peter shook his head.

"They switch places. Mom becomes the daughter…"

"…and daughter becomes the mom," Peter finished. "I get it. How does that apply here?"

"When did you quit Team Caffrey?"

"When my wife ended up in the hospital after a jewelry heist. When did you drink the Caffrey Kool-ade?"

"Boss, I know as well as you…Caffrey's a consummate liar and generally can't be trusted. But this time, I think it's different. I maybe wrong, but my gut tells me to bet on Neal. Between you and me, Peter, I wouldn't trust Caffrey with my PIN number, but I'd trust him to have my back. No matter what, he's always come through for us."

"That's pretty high praise from someone who once threatened to break both of his arms."

"Let's just say a lot of water's passed under the proverbial bridge since then. If your gut tells you Caffrey is complicit, you know I'll follow your lead. But if you want my opinion…"

"Please."

"This video is inconclusive."

"You saw what I saw. He slipped something into my wife's purse."

"So we'll pull her purse from the hospital and claim it as evidence. My gut tells me he had a reason.

"Yeah, it's called greed and entitlement! It's called criminal. Neal clearly spoke to the robbers, Diana. He protected them! He pointed out the security cameras. He helped them rob that store!"

"He misled those robbers. They thought they were free and clear, but Neal knew they were still being recorded."

"I can't believe this! You're defending him!"

"And you've got him strapped in the electric chair!"

Diana regretted the harshness of her voice. Someone who may not have known her or understood her working relationship with Peter would have decried her as disrespectful and insubordinate. But she knew Peter would understand. Still, she lowered her voice both in resonance and decibel.

"Boss, if Caffrey's guilty, I'll hold him down while you slap on the cuffs. But I think he's innocent. Wow…never thought I'd hear myself say that."

"Let's just finish the video and see where we end up."

Peter turned back to the flat screen and stared at the still slow moving images.

And then there was an eerily silent burst of smoke from the muzzle of one of the gunman's weapons…and Neal and Elizabeth fell frightfully slowly to the floor. It was like some strange ballet of, awkward and strangely beautiful, and deadly.

Peter felt his knees weaken, and could have sworn he felt the ground move under this feet…

"BOSS!"

End Chapter 2

Grateful for your time, for reading my story. If you are moved or entertained in any way, I hope you will kindly review and share. Thanks!


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